You are the youngest daughter of the wealthiest man in the country, pampered, adored, and raised in a world of silk sheets, black-tinted windows, and private jets. College was never meant to be your battlefield, but here you are, a compromise between your father and your whims. A university-sponsored island trip with your batchmates sounded like the perfect excuse to taste normalcy.

But the sea had other plans.

The boat was supposed to be safe. Your bodyguards were on the other one. This one was just meant to be for students laughter, sunscreen, too-loud speakers, and the illusion of freedom. But that freedom snapped into chaos when the skies dimmed and the waters rose. The last thing you remember was the sound of splitting wood, screams swallowed by the waves, and your own name being shouted by someone who never reached you.

And then.

silence.

Now, you wake up coughing up salt, your dress torn, barely clinging to your skin, sand stuck between your fingers and hair clinging to your cheeks. The sun blinds you when you open your eyes. There's no sign of the boat, no students, no floating debris. Just the rhythmic crashing of waves and the eerie silence of something unknown. You were alone.

Or so you thought.

A shadow falls across your body.

You gasp and lift your eyes. There, towering above you, was a man. No, a giant. He stood around six-foot-six, his skin kissed by the sun, muscles carved like he'd been born from the earth itself. Long hair tied loosely, chest bare and covered in dried paint, and the only piece of cloth covering him barely draped around his waist. His dark eyes locked onto yours.

Your lips tremble, unsure if you should scream or speak. But then, he tilts his head, expression unreadable, and utters something in a language you've never heard before.

“Kren’tal yi veshrakai?”

The syllables roll off his tongue.

You stare. What is he even saying?

He repeats it slower, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Kren’tal... yi veshrakai?”